This week’s column is different because, as you can see, I’ve written a poem. This poem is in honor of Dr. Voccio, whom I go to every six months for treatment of asthma. Dr. Voccio, this is for you.
I have asthma.
So for treatment I gladly go
to Dr. Voccio.
A skilled pulmonologist is he.
In the waiting room I heard
an unmistakable smoker’s cough.
The man said not a word
as he struggled with his oxygen tank.
Treatment decisions must be made.
Inhalers, spirometry, steroids, oxygen,
are devices of the trade.
My spirometry today was satisfactory.
Corticosteroid inhaler twice daily.
I’m doing what I should.
Dr. Voccio, stethoscope in hand,
said, “You sound good!”
Dr. Voccio has had enough.
Practicing medicine is tough.
The blessings of retirement,
soon will abound.
There’ll be family and friends all around.
I’m going to miss him
as his career comes to an end.
Dr. Voccio is my physician,